


alone is a new soul

by f_vikus



Series: two way monologues [1]
Category: Star Trek (2009), Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Implied Character Death, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-10
Updated: 2012-09-10
Packaged: 2017-11-13 23:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/508967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/f_vikus/pseuds/f_vikus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim is lost. Leonard doesn't know what that means, exactly. All he knows is that he's floundering, alone, on a hunk of tin in a vaccuum, and everybody knows except for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	alone is a new soul

**day 1**

  
They say you can feel the instance your loved one dies.

  
Leonard McCoy thinks it’s a load of bullshit.  The day Jim died, Leonard had no inkling.  There was no sudden emptiness, or a voice calling out to him, or the irrevocable sense of loss.  Of course, he feels them all now, when he’s huddled underneath his covers, alone in his quarters.  He’s never realized how deeply Jim was situated in his life, and now with the quiet as his company, Leonard is still, unsure.

  
There were six on the away team.  Only five came back up.  There was no explanation.  No body.  Nothing.

  
“You lost him?” Leonard had shouted at Scotty. Or maybe he had lunged at him first, before shouting. In retrospect, Leonard couldn’t remember anything other than the furious pounding in his ears, in his chest, all drumming to the same staccato rhythm of _He’s not dead, he’s not dead he’s not –_

  
Spock had nerve-pinched him.  Leonard remembers that, and moves his shoulder with a wince.  He’s not in his own cabin.  After dorming with Jim, Leonard’s learned more than a few tricks off him.  He waited until Cupcake left, and that was one expression he wished to forget, _Cupcake_ of all people handing him a look of sympathy.  He used his CMO code to override Jim’s, slipped into Jim’s quarters, commanded the lights down to zero, and –

  
_there was no body_

There is no body.  This is what bothers Leonard the most about space.  In the darkness, the unknown, the probability of retrieving a body was close to none, when you are sucked into the vacuum of empty space or killed on hostile land.  He’s given his fair share of apologies and sympathies to loved ones, and now he understands.  With a body, he could categorize how their last moments went, if they suffered at all.  With a body, one could go to the grave and stand there and say, “I’m sorry, I did everything I could.”  With a body, Leonard could’ve said to Jim, “I’m sorry, I never told you.”  Leonard doesn’t have a body.  Leonard has Jim’s empty bed that he’s never shared, and he has Jim’s old academy shirt pressed firmly against his cheek, and it’s Jim, and it’s not.

  
Vaguely, he wonders where Jim is, and dreams of Jim on the shore, golden and slick with sea water, turning back to smile at him.

  
\---  
  
 **day 2**

  
His aviaphobia decides to make a loud, unwelcome appearance.

Leonard makes it as far as the door of Jim’s room before turning and vomiting in the bathroom. Space is much larger than he remembers, and he wills himself not to think of how he’s floating through the black in a hunk of metal that could so easily crumple in on itself. It’s not that he needs Jim’s protection, but it’s Jim’s presence, his ability to pull miracles, to save them all –

_In Jim we trust –_ Leonard chokes and vomits again.

\---

  
**day 3**

  
Leonard hauls himself into Sickbay the next morning, blood thrumming under his skin.  For once he is grateful for his staff and their ability to keep their mouths shut.  He knows he looks like shit, and feels like it too, and he might be a little too calm, because that’s what anti-anxiety medication does, but he’s going to function, dammit.

  
Chapel hands him charts, and things, and nothing really makes sense, but she patiently repeats herself.  Both Chapel and M’Benga quietly and efficiently divide the cases among the two of them, and pass the more menial and automatic cases off to Leonard.  His patients stare, or try not to, in Chekov’s case, when he does not chastise them for being careless morons.

  
The younger nurses, the ones Leonard takes small joys in terrorizing, are uncharacteristically obedient, and when he snaps at them, they merely nod.  Spock drops by, and doesn’t mention that he knows where Leonard’s been sleeping.  
 If he spends the better half of his day in his office, eyes bloodshot and wet, no one says anything.

  
\--  
  
 **day 4**

  
He’s not sure if Jim’s actually dead or not.  Remember, no body, no physical, tangible proof.  This is what Jim’s always made fun of him for, _a man of science,_ he would tease, playfully slapping Leonard with his own pillow, or headlocking him until Leonard elbowed him hard in the side.

  
“Right, Jim. This man of science is what’s going to save you,” Leonard would drawl.

  
Because that is how it was.  Jim was the believer in all and everything, in Nirvana, and in avatars, and in incarnation and reincarnation, and destiny, religion, Old Religion and New, voodoo, _anything_ , and Leonard would disprove him again and again, and point out scientific flaws.  He doesn’t mean to.  Not really.  He understands that this is all Jim has left, because the real world, the tangible, logical, _scientific_ world birthed him out and fucked him six ways up and over, and this is how Jim stays together, with his irrational, undeterminable beliefs and childlike optimism that somehow somewhere, there is a second chance.  It was easier, though, to tell the facts like it was, because hoping was just too much sometimes, and Leonard knows he’s not strong enough to get up from the floor a second time, but he regrets every time he refutes Jim without thinking.  Jim’s face would freeze in its guileless expression, but Leonard can see the optimism flit sideways and away, and be replaced with a solemn tiredness.

  
Leonard’s never prayed, but he thinks, really quietly, _Let him come back, so I can tell him._  He doesn’t specify what he’s going to tell Jim.  He’s not that sure himself, and he pushes back all his regrets, letting it sit in between his stomach and heart like a large baseball.  He’s never told Jim, and he’s sure Jim knows in his own strange, brilliant way, that Jim’s his best friend and all, but the fact is that Leonard’s never told him that he was more than just a best friend, he was, he was –

  
When he bumps into Spock on his way off shift, Spock stops, his back ramrod straight, like Leonard slapped him and then insulted his ( _also dead_ ) mother, and says, softly, “I believe the term you are looking for is _ashayam._ ”

 

\--  
  
 **day 5**

The more he thinks about it, the more the term fits.  Jim.  His _ashayam._   His beloved.  Jim, _Jimjimjimjim_ , and his name blurs into one endless chant of longing and pain, so Leonard stops thinking about it.

  
Pike comms him, and Leonard is in no mood to play politics, but sits through Pike’s condolences, a fierce pressure increasing behind his eyes.  He and Pike both pretend well, Pike sitting with his usual authoritative grace, but Leonard sees the loss in Pike’s eyes as well, how Pike’s lost a _son_ , but not really, because Pike’s also never said anything, and Jim didn’t want to be presumptuous.  But Leonard remembers how Jim sends Pike the most ridiculous gifts for Christmas, and comms him in his free time, and how Jim looks younger around the eyes after he talks to Pike.

  
But they are both men, so they avoid the topic of Jim completely, until Pike says, “There’s something you should know,” and he hesitates. Leonard’s defences shoot up and slam into place, because Pike will never beat around the bush with them, with him. “Jim,” and Pike’s face twists into something akin to grief and loss, “left something for you. Just in case.” Leonard can see how the words are costing him, since Pike didn’t believe in no-win scenarios either, and Jim was a son, is a son to him. “His quarters. You should check in – “

  
Leonard refuses to think about the implications and hangs up on Pike. They can court-martial his ass for all he cares. He has nothing left.

  
\--

**day 6**

Joanna comms him, and this is when Leonard starts to cry, looking at his baby girl light years away on a vidscreen, and the realization of how _alone_ he really is is just too sudden.  He tries to push back the tears, but they fall anyways, and he mutters, “Sorry, Jojo, it’s been –“

  
“Oh, Daddy,” is what he gets from her.  “Don’t be sad. I love you too.”

  
He looks into his daughter’s eyes, and wonders how she understands so much, and tries not to think about how he’s missed and will be missing her growing up.  His life with his daughter is nothing but instances of conversations and comms, and he shakes with the knowledge that their relationship will probably never be anymore than that.  He doesn’t know how long he sits there, hunched over in Jim’s chair, head in his hands, before he realizes.  “Jo, you called Jim’s comm. How did you know I was here?”

  
This time, the look Joanna gives him is not at all kind and Leonard is suddenly struck by how much she resembles Jim, all quietly stern looks wrapped in intelligent eyes, mouths quirking the same way.  “Dad, don’t you _know_?” she says. “Where else would you be?”

  
\--

**day 7**

While Spock and an away team go back down to the planet, Leonard tears apart Jim’s quarters.  He stands in the middle of the room, unsure of what to look for.  He pokes tentatively into Jim’s desk, but leaves his computer alone, knowing that if it was important, Jim would’ve hidden it elsewhere, the sentimental fool he was.  He moves to Jim’s bookshelf and idly flips through books.  Blake, Yeats, a couple comic books, some John Grisham, and Leonard smiles at Jim’s guilty pleasures.  He feels disoriented still, like he’s missing a limb, and this morning, he caught himself looking down at his torso for the hole that he feels inside.  It’s a strange lightheaded feeling, like not getting enough air, or coming up too fast from under the water, but never reaching the surface.

  
He feels hollowed out by the time he reaches Jim’s bedside drawer.  He reaches in pulls out its contents, one by one, placing them on the bed.  A PADD, a book – The Swiss Family Robinson, an old fashioned pocket watch, lube (and Leonard smiles at this one), and then his hand brushes against something soft, fragile-feeling, and Leonard stills. He carefully pulls out a worn napkin.

  
The napkin bears the marks of being crumpled, and is stained with beer rings and what Leonard thinks is an oil stain from nachos.  He recognizes the logo of the napkin, though.  They had a bar, a dive a ways off Starfleet grounds that he and Jim frequented.  He doesn’t understand why Jim would keep the napkin, especially in its grimy state, and then he sees it.  Scrawled in the corner of the napkin, in his handwriting, is the title to a song.  Leonard squints to identify the name, and when he does, everything falls into place.

  
They had hit the bar after a rough week of practical and theoretical exams, clinic duty, and passive-aggressive abuse from the more arrogant professors, and to top that, Jocelyn had called just because she couldn’t leave McCoy the damn alone.  It was a gnarly night, with Leonard biting back curses and insults just in case Joanna could hear.  Jocelyn had no qualms about that, however, and ripped into him, taking flesh where he had none, and exacting her own grief in measured tones.  Afterwards, he met Jim at the bar, barely holding himself together, and proceeded to get very drunk, and very maudlin.  The bar had a house band, and during a particular song, Jim had asked the name of the song, and Leonard, too tired and drunk to answer, had scrawled his answer in his atrociously illegible writing.

         [](http://pics.livejournal.com/f_vikus/pic/0000626w/)

Appropriate, since Jocelyn sucked the soul out of even the nicest people.  Or that’s what Leonard thought he said.  He had been pretty drunk.  “My favourite song,” Leonard had slurred, body slumping over the bar, Jim laughing beside him.

  
“You can’t possibly mean that, you old sentimentalist!” Jim had exclaimed, nudging Leonard with his elbow before tipping off his stool and spilling his drink onto a very large, very angry (and also very drunk) man, a fitting prelude to a bar fight that had threatened their admission to this particular bar for the next three months.

But why would he keep this? Leonard opens the napkin gingerly, expecting a crude joke, or a dirty picture involving stick figures, and instead finds Jim’s surprisingly neat cursive slanting across the middle.

 

         

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/f_vikus/pic/00002c3x/)

 

As far as promises go, Leonard’s had better ones, more tangibly realistic ones, even, ones that involved sex or money or an advancement in career, but he knows without a doubt that Jim means every word.  He sits down heavily on the bed, smoothing his hands over the napkin, fingers tracing the heavy ink of the ‘J’ in Jim.  He knows what this means.  He’s told Jim that Jocelyn’s taken Earth, and essentially his world with Joanna.  He’s got nothing left, and he’ll never belong, and Jim’s offering him a home. Jim’s offering what he can and what he has, and Leonard shakes with the realization.  He puts the napkin down, and reaches into the drawer again, pulling out a small, black leather box.

  
A small, black leather box roughly the size of one that would contain a ring.

Leonard doesn’t open the box.  He puts everything back in the drawer, except for the box.  He takes the box with him to the observation deck, which he hates, and sits there, watching the stars turn into blurs.  The box sits next to him, in lieu of Jim.

  
There are two layers of thick, double-insulated glass between him and the black.  He presses up against it, the glass cool against his hand and face, and imagines his body floating through space.

  
He feels nothing at all.

  
\--

When he awakes, it is to the frantic squawking of his comm requesting his presence in the transporter room.

\--

**day 8**

When Leonard gets back into his quarters from Sickbay, he immediately shrugs his uniform off and steps into the shower, wishing desperately for a shower with real water.  It was more gratifying having the water as hot as he could manage beating down on his shoulders.

Spock and his away team had beamed up after a fruitless search, frustrated and a little frightened, and although Spock had been stoic and calming in towards the rest of the crew, Leonard feels Spock’s tension as if it were running through his own body instead.

  
Scotty said, “Beaming up five.”

  
There were six upon materializing.  Jim stood in the middle of the away team with the expression of a child caught doing something naughty, having been waving both hands vigorously in front of Spock’s face.  The transporter room had erupted into exclamations of relief, and cheers, and Leonard had stood there frozen.  He must’ve sent Jim off to Sickbay, but he remembered nothing other than the sharp blue of Jim’s eyes.

  
When Leonard finally steps out of the bathroom, Jim is there in his quarters, sprawled across Leonard’s bed.

  
“Dammit, Jim,” grouses Leonard, startled and out of habit.  He clutches the damp towel a little harder, and tries not to be self-conscious.  Jim checks him out anyways, languidly and shamelessly, and sits up, hair sticking up in the back.

“Thought you missed me.”  Jim’s smile turns into a half-hearted leer as he watches Leonard back into his dresser and fumble for clothes.

  
“Off. I sleep in that.  You haven’t even showered,” Leonard says, pointedly.

  
“You’re meaner when I’m around,” Jim pouts, but he stays put, and burrows a little deeper into the top of the covers.

  
They stare at each other in awkward silence, Leonard clenching and unclenching his fists, Jim unnaturally still on top of Leonard’s bed.  Jim’s pants have white smudge marks on them, and Leonard can see how some of the smudges sparkle when they catch the light.

  
“So,” Leonard begins, shuffling around uncomfortably.  “You’re not injured. For once.”

  
“I don’t know, Bones,” Jim says, shrugging.  “One moment, I was standing next to Ensign Harris, and the next, I was on a beach with purple sand.”  He grins wide and easy, and digs into his pocket.  “But don’t worry! I brought something back for Jo.  Nothing for you, I’m afraid, other than me.”  He produces a small shell the color of an Earth sunset.  “Pretty, isn’t it? Spock says it’s native to that particular planet.”  He smiles.  “Thought I’d give it to her next we see her.”

  
Leonard ignores the ‘we’ Jim slips in.  “Jim,” he begins, and then stops.  He’s not sure he wants this conversation.  It’s worked well for them so far, not talking about _them_ , if there even was a _them_ to begin with.

  
“I’m completely fine, Bones.”  Jim extends his arms.  “In one complete piece.”

  
“Good to know,” Leonard spits out, surprised at the anger in his voice.  Judging by Jim’s wide-eyed expression, he was too, but Jim shakes his head, and then flops backwards on the bed, pulling Leonard’s pillow closer to his head.  “I wasn’t on the planet that whole time, you know.”  He gazes at the ceiling, his expression empty.

  
Leonard doesn’t say anything.  He folds his towel into a neat square and deposits it on the corner of his desk.  It’s a neutral action, something to calm his nerves.  If Jim wasn’t on the planet, then he must’ve been suspended in millions of particles across the universe, the possibility of him never returning due to a _transporter malfunction_ was just so fucking high –

  
“Bones?” Jim asks, concern coloring his voice.  He rises and moves towards Leonard, who’s gone completely still and pale.  “What’s wrong?”

  
Leonard wills himself to stop shaking, but it doesn’t work, only magnifying as Jim steps closer.  “Don’t,” he croaks, holding up an unsteady hand as if to stop Jim, but Jim only takes his hand, his slightly dry palm surprisingly warm against Leonard’s cold one.  Leonard can only think _oh_ before Jim folds him into his arms, cradling him like he’s the one that’s been lost in space for almost a week.

  
This was the precipice of their relationship.  Leonard’s staring right down it, but with Jim’s steady heartbeat against his own, and Jim’s hand heavy and confident on the back of his head, it feels like home.  Jim’s pulled him down with him, but Leonard’s strangely unafraid.  He moves his arms around Jim’s back, and Jim relaxes.  Leonard could feel him smile against his hair.

  
“You were gone for almost eight days.  I didn’t know what to think.”   _You weren’t here._

  
“Bones,” Jim murmurs against the side of his face, breath warm and lightly fanning his hair.  “I beamed back with the others. I was _here_ the whole time.”  Leonard feels a faint tremor run through Jim. “I was here, but no one could see me.” Leonard freezes.  If Jim had been here the whole time, then he would have seen Leonard’s complete breakdown – he moves to pull away, but Jim just tightens his arms.  “Hey, hey Bones. None of that okay?”  He’s stroking Leonard’s hair, and Leonard relaxes into it.  “It wasn’t so bad,” Jim says.  “And I can’t believe you had to be escorted out of the transporter room,” Jim laughs softly.  He moves his hand to the back of Leonard’s neck, cupping it, the weight of his hand anchoring Leonard.  He smiles.  “At least I know you missed me.”

  
At this, Leonard growls and pushes himself out of Jim’s arms.  “Fuck, Jim.  _Don’t_.”  He stomps over to the bed and sits down on it, the bed creaking from his weight.  “It’s not funny. Just, you don’t, you.”  He stops in frustration, running a hand over his face.  “You don’t understand,” he finally says, softly.  Jim does understand though, and they both know it.  “It’s not, I never said - ”

  
“I never said anything either, Bones.”  Jim sits down beside him and sighs.  “I mean it, though, Bones.”  Jim’s uncharacteristically serious.  “All of it. I know it’s sudden, but we’ve always been together.  I never said anything because I didn’t want you to think that I wasn’t serious about it, about _us_.  I didn’t want to lose you because you,” Jim swallows, and Leonard sees the little boy behind the brilliant brains, the one who’s been left and used and who never takes anything for granted, “you were all I had, Bones, everything.  And our jobs, and who we are, it’s gonna affect us, but even with that, I mean all of it.  I want it.  You’re it, man,” Jim says, earnestly, and Leonard smiles at the last sentence.

“Yeah, Jim,” Leonard says, affection coloring his voice, a warm spring morning in San Francisco.  “I know.”

  
At this, Jim sits up a little straighter, a strange glint in his eyes.  “I know you know, Bones.  I went back to my quarters.  Seems like there were little –” Leonard can feel Jim look at him shiftily from the corners of his eyes – “mice that went through my things.”  Leonard cringes.  “Imagine my surprise when I discovered that there had been a theft in my quarters,” Jim says, his eyes belying his casual stance.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” lies Leonard.  He’s tense, and suddenly the room is too small and his shirt is too tight around his neck, his chest.  He flushes across his neck.

“So I take it you’ve seen it.”

  
A trick question.  _Don’t answer!_ screams Leonard’s brain, the side that’s responsible for saving lives and doing doctory things.  “I didn’t look inside!” protests Leonard’s mouth.

  
Jim doesn’t say anything, but when Leonard looks over, Jim’s face had _Ah-HAH_ splashed right across it.

  
“Don’t be smug, Jim.” Leonard grumps, the weight that had been in his chest dissipating with each word, and repeats, “I didn’t look,” if albeit a bit petulantly.

Jim still smirks at him.  “Do you have it?”

  
Leonard scowls at the expression on Jim’s face.  He stands and moves towards his bedside drawer.  Reaching in, he produces the leather box and the napkin, and hands it to Jim.  Jim smiles when he sees the napkin, and examines the box, moving his fingers across the intricate leather work before putting the box down and taking Leonard’s hand.  Leonard flushes, feeling too warm.

  
“Bones.  You need to know this.”  He reaches for the napkin.  “You were so drunk that day, and all I could think about was how you couldn’t stay on Earth.  I might not be able to give you stars all the time, Bones, but I’m here, and that’s really all I have to offer.”  Leonard opens his mouth to protest, they’re grown men, for chrissakes, they don’t need to talk, but Jim shoots him a dirty look that screams _Shut yer trap._ Leonard snaps his jaw shut.  “Bones, I wouldn’t leave you by yourself.  Not if I can help it, okay?  And I know you know, and sometimes things just can’t be helped, but you need to know that I’m always going to come back to you.”

  
Leonard feels naked under the weight of Jim’s even look.  He swallows, nods.  “Jim,” he starts, _you’re everything.  I followed you into space.  I won’t make it without you_ but what he says is, “You know I’ll always wait.”

  
_For you._ He is framed by his insecurities and feels like a coward for not saying that, but he knows Jim understands.  Jim’s answering grin was beautiful, all soft around the edges, framed by his blue eyes.  He moves closer, reaching for Leonard, and presses his lips against Leonard’s, once, chastely, before moving back and sweeping his hand across Leonard’s face.

  
“Course you will,” he grins cheekily, before kissing him again.  He flops backwards onto the bed.

  
Leonard narrows his eyes at Jim.  “You egotistical little _brat_ !”  he huffs, but smiles anyways, pleased.  He moves and pulls Jim closer to him, marvelling at the warmth.  He closes his eyes, his body finally relaxed enough to sleep.

“So,” Jim says, after a moment’s beat. “Who told?”

  
Leonard’s eyes snaps open.  “What?”

  
“You know,” Jim shrugs.  “The ring.”  Jim’s staring at the ceiling, and Leonard can feel the tension thrumming under Jim’s skin, and _knows_ Jim is hiding something.

  
“What do you mean _who told_?”  He narrows his eyes suspiciously.

  
Jim turns his head, sheepish look firmly on his face, inhales, and says, “Well, I know you didn’t peek inside the box, so you don’t know what it looks like, but I had to get Scotty on board to make it, and he needed materials to fashion the ring, and of course, the materials requisition went through to Communications, where Uhura, who _by the way_ cannot keep her mouth shut, pestered me for months – “

  
Leonard’s eyes went wide at that. _Months?_

  
“ – and of course Uhura has her “girls night” Jim makes the quote signs with his fingers, “and shares because that’s what girls do, they _share,_ with Chapel and Gaila, and pretty much all of your medical staff, and your staff is seriously like an incestuous little family, and Gaila has a massively soft spot for Chekov and his big, pleading eyes, and somehow he somehow managed to worm that out of her, and I don’t even know why he knew or wanted to know in the first place, and of course he and Sulu are, like, one.  Oh, and of course I had to let Spock know.  In case you said yes.  Or no.  Of course, I can’t just _marry_ you without proper approval from the family, and I don’t think Jocelyn wants to know that hey!  I’m going to get married to your hot ex, and maybe be part of Joanna’s life, speaking of which, Joanna – ”

  
Things are sliding so firmly into place.  Leonard is dazed by the words pouring out of Jim’s mouth.

“ – was totally on board with this.  I think she wants to come onto the Enterprise for the ceremony, if you had said yes, but I wasn’t even sure if you liked me _that_ way, but it didn’t hurt to talk to Jo anyways – “

“Jim,” Leonard interrupts. but Jim still prattles on.

“– she’s a lot of fun, by the way, but I’m pretty sure she’s told Jocelyn by now, and I think I’m going to have to invite her and Clay to the wedding.  Also, I had to let Chris know, since I had to ask him about the Starfleet personal forms regarding status changes, and that old man is a worse gossip than Chekov!”  Jim huffs, but he’s smiling, and _still talking_ , “and I’m pretty sure he and Archer and everyone else at Starfleet are having a good giggle about this, since I did work myself up into a state about this, and I was also thinking that Chris marry us but you haven’t said yes, and I guess that’s fair since we haven’t even gone on a date but I’m going to have to ask you to not –“

“JIM.”

“– kill me please, since all we’ve done is kiss and I haven’t even gotten to deflower you – “

“Oh my God, Jim.  Stop.”  Jim shuts up obediently.  “So basically, the entire Enterprise, most of my family, and probably all of Starfleet knows.   _Except for me_.”

“Yes,” nods Jim, confidently.  He smiles, showing even, white teeth.  “And probably some aliens too, because I’m pretty sure the last ambassador we gave a ride too was a telepath.”

Leonard groans.

“How did you find out?” Jim asks.

  
“Pike.”

  
“Bastard’s a ruiner of surprises.”  Jim sulks.  “Me and him, we’re going to have to have a little talk about secrecy.”  He turns to Leonard and kisses him, slower and sweeter this time, but Leonard pulls back, and looks directly into Jim’s eyes.

  
“Jim,” Leonard says.  “I’m not going to say yes.”  He’s surprised when Jim chuckles.

  
“Of course you aren’t.  We haven’t even gone on an official date, haven’t you been listening?” He slides his fingers between Leonard’s.  “I know you haven’t looked inside, Bones,” Jim says softly, placing the box between their heads.  “But keep it until you’re ready to.”

  
They fall silent at this, hands still entwined, and Jim kisses Leonard, languidly.

  
_Back to me,_ thinks Leonard, and allows himself to hope.

**Author's Note:**

> Temporary character "death" but really, nobody dies. They just misplace Jim for a while. Themes borrowed heavily from TOS' The Mark of Gideon. Winner of the Jim and Bones Rec Olympics 2012 for Best Proposal. Eeeeee!


End file.
